Wogan stared at the golden field in front of him, eyes wide with disbelief. The grain swayed gently under the artificial sunlight, every stalk tall, full, and ripe. It felt unreal. He had watched every moment of the process himself, from planting the seedlings to witnessing the rice mature in real time.
And now, standing before that flourishing field, a wild excitement rose in his chest.
This feeling… it was incredible.
Maggie remained silent as always, but the slight upward curl of her lips and the bright shimmer in her eyes revealed everything she felt. Even she, calm and collected, could not hide her amazement.
"Alright," Morgan said, tossing each of them a small sickle included with the planting kit. "Only one last step left."
"Cut the rice and drop it into the opening at the top of the machine."
Wogan didn't even wait for Morgan to finish speaking. He rolled up his sleeves, charged straight into the field, and grabbed the ripened stalks with a hunger-fed determination. Maggie followed right behind him, her steps light but decisive. The scent of fresh grain filled the air, drifting toward their noses, and their empty stomachs felt even hollower after two hours of labor.
The moment they were close enough, the two of them swung their sickles down.
Snip, snip, snip.
The sound filled the entire room, rhythmic and sharp. Bundle after bundle of rice began piling up beside Morgan, who gathered them with practiced ease.
"Once all the rice is inside," Morgan explained, dropping the cut stalks into the machine's chimney, "it will dehusk, steam, and compress it automatically. Then the mochi squares will come out from the bottom."
The moment Wogan and Maggie finished harvesting and stepped out of the mud, they froze.
A small, soft square slid out of the lower opening of the Mochi Maker, steaming gently. The sweet aroma of glutinous rice rushed past them like a warm breeze.
Wogan's and Maggie's exhaustion vanished in an instant.
Their eyes locked onto the soft, warm mochi piece like two starving wolves spotting prey.
And then…
Drip.
Another freshly steamed mochi square dropped out. Then another. And another. One after another, they fell in a slow, steady stream that filled the small room with heat and scent.
Morgan casually grabbed one, popped it into his mouth, and chewed.
"Mmm. Not bad," he said with a satisfied nod. "Pretty good, actually."
Wogan stared at him.
Maggie stared too.
Then, in perfect synchronization:
CLANG!
Both of them threw their sickles to the floor and lunged.
Wogan grabbed three mochi squares in one hand, shoved them all into his mouth at once, and began chewing loudly. The glutinous texture stuck together, its sweetness spreading across his tongue and up through his nose, until it felt like warm light burst across his brain.
"Good! So good!"
His words were muffled, barely understandable, but the expression on his face said everything.
If the mochi wasn't so sticky and prone to gluing his lips shut, Wogan would have inhaled all of them at once. Even so, he maintained an impressive speed: one mochi appeared, one mochi disappeared into his mouth.
Maggie's expression was far more restrained, but her puffed cheeks betrayed her. She held one square with both hands, nibbling with quiet intensity, but she was clearly devouring them just as eagerly as Wogan.
"This tastes way better than the mochi the church gives out," Maggie murmured during the brief second her mouth wasn't full.
This was only the second sentence she had spoken since she met Morgan.
"Food you make yourself always tastes different," Morgan said with a laugh. He picked up another square and ate it slowly. It was soft, fragrant, sweet, and heavy enough to feel satisfying. But he couldn't help thinking that a drink to wash it down would be nice.
Wogan and Maggie didn't answer. They simply continued devouring the mochi, their minds fully focused on eating.
Morgan turned toward the machine again. Numbers flickered on the display. The top number kept climbing, while the bottom number remained fixed at 219.
That meant the rice they had harvested today was enough to make 219 mochi squares.
It should have been 259, but because Wogan and Maggie were still amateurs at planting, a portion of the rice hadn't grown properly.
But 219 was still more than enough. Divided equally, each person could have seventy-three pieces.
Morgan looked at Wogan.
Wogan was clearly not planning on dividing anything.
Well… it didn't matter. There would be more food soon anyway.
When the last of the mochi squares rolled out of the machine, Wogan finished the final piece with a satisfied slap of his hand on his stomach.
"Burp."
He barely felt full, but he forced out the burp proudly.
"That was amazing! Incredible!"
He straightened up and instinctively reached for a toothpick, then remembered that the room was completely empty and sighed in disappointment.
Maggie cleaned her face with her sleeve and then quietly fixed her eyes on Morgan.
Now that her stomach was full, deeper thoughts finally surfaced.
Who was this boy?
Why had he gone out of his way to feed them?
How did he create machines from nothing?
How could he instantly summon farmland, weather systems, and a mochi factory?
These thoughts tangled in her mind like threads.
Wogan, simple as he seemed, wasn't clueless either. His instincts were sharp, his thoughts surprisingly organized when he actually cared about something.
He didn't hesitate like Maggie. He spoke first, blunt and honest, exactly the way he always was:
"Hey, Morgan, I've got something I want to ask."